Once upon a time, a little girl named Momo decided to go on a journey with her favorite animals. She took a red ball, a yellow fox, a blue bird, and a black sheep, and set off to explore wonderful places.
During the journey, Momo and her friends visited many exciting spots. They played in a colorful garden filled with wildflowers, swam by a strong and beautiful river, and listened to the lovely songs of the birds. At each location, Momo and her friends learned new things: the different colors of flowers and how they grow, how clean the river water is, and how birds find their way.
Throughout the journey, Momo learned the importance of helping her friends and understanding their needs. She also discovered how cooperation and supporting one another made the adventure even more enjoyable. For instance, they learned to play together and solve problems as a team.
In the end, when Momo and her friends returned home, their hearts were filled with joy and wisdom. Momo realized that traveling is not just about seeing new places but also about learning new things, spending wonderful time with friends, and experiencing life’s valuable lessons.
Educational Significance
This tale teaches children the importance of travel and exploration, as well as friendship, teamwork, and problem-solving. Through Momo and her friends’ experiences, children can understand the value of helping each other, being empathetic, and learning new things.
Thus, travel is not only about discovering new places but also about building friendships and learning vital life lessons.
Ochilova Ozoda Zufar was born on September 16, 2003 in Jondar district of Bukhara region. Her nationality is Uzbek. Currently, she is a 4th grade student of Jizzakh State Pedagogical University and a member of the Male and Female Gifted Students of Jizzakh State Pedagogical University and a member of the student academy. She’s the author of about 10 articles and a Mental Arithmetic Trainer…
My older brother told me
Chuang Tzu knew all along
he wasn't a butterfly
That her cat was well-behaved
wasn't the kind of information
he was seeking
Poster of the most dangerous creatures
on the wall where he measured
himself
The builder's boots
at their ease
on the sunny porch
Nowadays
the shrine maidens are always
on their phones
Just in my lifetime
a man walked on the moon
and another pretended to bend a spoon
The time spent
waiting for the governor to call
in a movie I saw before
Also the work of the cosmos
children chasing bubbles
in the sun
Hampering her graceful efforts
to move him off the topic
of spindle shells
He's writing the secret history of sock drawers
and looking for a little
light clerical work
Strolling the aisles of the Dollar Tree
I picked up a gold sparkle
on my wrist
We live in a time where it would be difficult, extremely difficult, to live and lead a normal life.
Back in the day, the need for normalcy, decency and modesty in every area of Interests was being looked out for. The family, community, work-place and general society would prioritize character in relation to any engaged endeavor.
However, modern-day situations hold different narratives. What was seen as morally upright in the days of old is frowned today. What was seen as evil in the past is revered in the present. Being a person of integrity seems to portray limited relevance as it has been substituted with the exact opposite: deceit. From family to society, the culture of what was seen as “good character” has now become a complete shadow of itself. The pop culture of falsehood, which carries an aesthetic outlook, is given a warm embrace by vast majority of people in today’s world.
Consequently, it is without a doubt that the world of today is so wrong that what is left of it is not right and what should be right is not left!
Whatever led to such transition of value, has constituted the current state of being of most people of today, regardless of income bracket, status and even conviction.
Bottom line:
The Current State Of Being: Being abnormal is the new normal!
“The picturesqueness of human thought may console us for its imperfection.”
– George Santayana, The Sense of Beauty
Nobody honestly reports
On the beliefs of others. Wolves
Explain what alchemy involves
To beakers blackened by beaux arts.
You said that men who run from warts
Are like a bear that runs from fish.
And logic’s like a petri dish
To beakers blackened by beaux arts.
Your era loved what love distorts…
One cannot trust the naked eye
Which craves the novel modesty
Of beakers blackened by beaux arts.
Poem 4:
Blackguarding Merles
You mock a dahlia’s faith in rain
And March’s hieratic pain
In Wotan’s one good eye. I show
The only serious dog I know
The absence of a final task.
(His bark becomes so plateresque.)
Jocasta’s hardship melts the snow…
The only serious dog I know
Is on precocious wisdom’s trail.
Your apperception tugs his tail.
For Tiresias, you set aglow
The only serious dog I know.
Poem 5:
Schtupping Philosophy
After Mark Strand
“If only it were so easy to soothe hunger by rubbing an empty belly.”
– Diogenes the Cynic, on public masturbation
“Qui veut faire l’ange fait la bête.”
– Blaise Pascal, Pensées
Fear pats the propaganda on
Each head. Hate rubs the belly of
Hypocrisy. There’s Puppy-Love,
Schtupping Philosophy again.
“O, History, you’re not strapped for time,”
She moans while strapping me in wings.
Her drunken master drily sings:
“Schtupping Philosophy turns wine
To dust!” When we extremes do meet
In bed, what’s born reveals our chains
And all but holy sweetness feigns.
Schtupping Philosophy, one ought
To pause one’s speech, but not one’s thought.
Play Water Music, let all see
The truth’s invisibility.
Schtupping Philosophy brings out
Third eyes. This post-renewal age
Can’t fathom seasons. Anger warps
Each blossom, buzzing does each corpse…
Schtupping Philosophy onstage,
I feel the sunlight’s bearded breath.
The earth lets go of hardness. This
Gets harder moonlight, as does Bliss
Schtupping Philosophy to death.
Poem 6:
Ode on My Daughter’s Bat Mitzvah (an Acrostic)
“If faith is the sail on a relationship, one with a broken faith is a hardship. What do you build a new sail with when your faith is broken? Hardiness. Jacob is hardy… Hardiness is not the same as hardness. The ‘i’ in hardiness is a reaching hand; hardiness strives, it reaches through hardness.” – Madeleine Sheff, from her d’var Torah
Beacon in the storm, light that pierces the darkness,
taste of saltpeter on the lips,
icy wind whispering secrets to the waves.
Unbreakable refuge, scent of salty wood and rain.
Deep roots,
scent of damp earth and ancient moss,
rough bark under the fingers,
rough and firm touch.
Indestructible bond, deep and damp silence.
Crystal river,
cold water brushing the skin,
constant murmur, reflection of the leaden sky,
scent of clay and seaweed.
Constant flow, aquatic freshness.
Midday sun,
scorching heat on the skin,
blinding golden light,
buzzing of bees in the air,
aroma of honey and pollen.
Heat that penetrates the soul,
intense glow.
Embrace of wings, soft skin against skin,
deep joint heartbeat,
scent of jasmine and wet earth,
absolute security.
Perfect Union/
Silent song,
vibration in the chest,
deep resonance, serene silence,
peace that floods the being.
Serenade of the soul/
Silk canvas,
soft texture under the fingers,
smell of fresh paint, vibrant colors,
delicate brushstrokes.
Joint creation…
Secret garden,
fragrance of roses and damp earth,
velvety petals, soft touch,
mysterious silence.
Shared intimacy, vegetal freshness.
Eternal fire,
intense heat on the face,
crackling of flames, smell of burnt wood,
hypnotic light, burning warmth.
Flame that never goes out/
Safe refuge,
soft and warm blankets,
smell of home, cozy silence,
feeling of deep peace. Peace and tranquility,
aroma of cinnamon.
Endless journey/
Fresh air in the lungs,
changing landscapes, murmur of the wind,
excitement of adventure, boundless freedom.
Shared adventure, sensation of movement.
Intense brilliance…
Dream come true;
Softness of the sheets, comforting darkness,
a feeling of peace, sweet dreams,
immense joy. Complete fulfillment,
the scent of lavender.
Constant whisper,
a gentle breeze on the skin…
GRACIELA NOEMI VILLAVERDE is a writer and poet from Concepción del Uruguay (Entre Rios) Argentina, based in Buenos Aires She graduated in letters and is the author of seven books of poetry, awarded several times worldwide. She works as the World Manager of Educational and Social Projects of the Hispanic World Union of Writers and is the UHE World Honorary President of the same institution Activa de la Sade, Argentine Society of Writers. She is the Commissioner of Honor in the executive cabinet IN THE EDUCATIONAL AND SOCIAL RELATIONS DIVISION, of the UNACCC SOUTH AMERICA ARGENTINA CHAPTER.
Snow falling white birch forest
After wandering the world,
I now watch the snow falling
on a birch forest in Poland.
Every soul that leaves its home
will long for the land it once dwelled in,
the lingering scent of wildflowers left behind,
the laughter of a beloved voice.
I only miss the sunshine of Jeju.
There is no gift more precious than sunlight.
The autumn sun in Jeju is dazzlingly beautiful.
You will never know
how deeply I love the sunshine.
Standing beneath the gray sky,
watching the snow fall in a Polish birch forest,
in this divine and beautiful woodland,
I long for the warmth of the sun.
Snowflakes fall endlessly,
piling on the snow-covered birch trees,
as longing quietly settles in my heart.
Distance Between You and Me
Each word, each phrase,
like the wind, it sways.
When we hear but don't retain,
connections start to wane.
With a quiet heart, sincere and wide,
we look, we listen, side by side.
Emotions flow, a hidden stream,
revealing truths, a whispered dream.
Listening is magic, soft yet strong,
it soothes, it heals, it rights the wrong.
It melts the ice, it breaks the chain,
and opens hearts to feel again.
At work, at home, in love, in ties,
trust is built where empathy lies.
To truly hear, to understand,
creates a bond, a helping hand.
Like forests need the sun and rain,
so do hearts through joy and pain.
Nodding gently, eyes that see,
reflecting words so truthfully.
Not just our voices, loud and free,
but others' stories, their decree.
Only then, both strong and wise,
can we unite and harmonize.
Together swaying, firm yet free,
a bamboo grove in unity.
The Day I Turned Away from the Heron
She gazed at glass in the morning light.
What did she see in that silver space?
A lonely ghost in her own embrace.
She longed to be like the crane so bright,
with feathers pure as drifting white.
Yet in the stream where shadows play,
her form was cast in quiet gray.
Who would cherish one unseen?
One who scorns where they have been
can never know a world serene.
The crane looked on with patient eyes,
as still as time, beneath the skies.
The heron stood where waters gleam,
a fading shape within a dream.
I turned away from the heron, left nothing there,
just silence hanging in the air.
Poet Dr. Kang, Byeong-Cheol is a Korean author and poet, born in Jeju City, South Korea, in 1964. He began writing in 1993, publishing his first short story, “Song of Shuba,” at the age of twenty-nine. He released a collection of short stories in 2005 and has since won eight literature awards and published more than twelve books. From 2009 to 2014, he served as a member of The Writers in Prison Committee (WiPC) of PEN International. Additionally, he worked as an editorial writer for JeminIlbo, a newspaper in Jeju City, Korea. He holds a PhD in Political Science and currently serves as the Vice President of The Korean Institute for Peace and Cooperation and vice president of Jeju PEN. Moreover, he holds the position of founding President of the Korean Association of World Literature.
